Rain
by DizzyDrea
Summary: Castle and Beckett finally face what's between them...in the middle of a hurricane.


Title: Rain  
>Author: DizzyDrea<br>Summary: It's raining, it's pouring…  
>Rating: T<br>Spoilers: Knockout  
>Author's Notes: This story was inspired by the song "I Love The Rain", by The Real Tuesday Weld. It was featured in a Chevy commercial I saw a while back. Yes, a car commercial. And the weirdness that is a hurricane making landfall in New York. Never know where the bug will bite. This was supposed to be a little post-Knockout silliness, because they must be needing it by now, but for some reason, the angst monster got loose and attacked this story. It's not too angsty, but it's there. Sorry about that.<br>Disclaimer: Castle is the property of ABC, ABC Studios, Beacon Productions and a lot of other people who aren't me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Kate Beckett stands at the door, watching the rain fall as she silently rubs at her chest, there where the scar is still visible when her shirt pulls just so.

"It's raining," she says, disdain dripping from every syllable. She's pissed, because there's a hurricane coming, and there are still idiots committing murder and all she really wants is to be anywhere but here.

"Astute observation there, Detective," Rick Castle says as he steps up beside her. He notices her not-too-subtle movements, and opens his mouth to say something.

"Don't," she says, turning to pin him to the floor with her glare. "Just don't."

"Okay," he says, backing off just a step as he holds his hands out to ward off the lecture he knows is coming.

"I just—" she breaks off, feeling bad now for the way she snapped at him. She turns back to the rain, speaking softly. "That's four times today. I can't take it when you're being nice to me."

"It was only three times today," he says quietly as he sidles up beside her. "I never got the fourth one out."

And it's true. She'd stopped him just now, otherwise he'd have asked if she was okay. He knows she is. Knows that she rubs her scar when she's deep in thought. It's become unconscious, like him fiddling with a pen when he writes. But it always—always—takes him back to that moment, and he just can't stop himself.

But she's standing next to him, breathing, alive, and he can't help the grin that breaks out on his face.

"C'mon," he says, tugging at her hand where it's hanging next to his.

She cocks her head, looking at him like he's lost his mind. "Where? In case you haven't noticed, it's raining."

"You said that already," he says. "But it's not like it's gonna stop anytime soon. C'mon."

He winks at her and tugs her hand, pulling the door to the office building open and practically dragging her outside. Within seconds, they're both soaked, and her outrage knows no bounds.

"What did you do that for?" she asks, eyes flashing.

The look she gives him would have been more effective if she hadn't resembled a wet poodle right then, and his smile nearly stretches off his face.

"C'mon, Detective," he cajoles, "live a little."

She freezes, going stock still as the shock passes over her face, and automatically, her mind goes to that same moment, laying on the grass, bleeding, dying…She shakes herself, needing the physical reminder that she's still alive.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think—" he stammers, realizing his mistake only too late, as that moment unspools in his mind for the second time that day.

They lock eyes, and it's as if it's playing on a screen in front of them. One minute she's talking about their Captain—their friend—and the next, the crack of the rifle splits the air and she's on her back and he's beside her, and the world is graying at the edges, and she can't breathe, and he can't breathe.

All around them, people pass, going about their business as if nothing's changed. And for them, it hasn't. It's still raining, and people are still going to work and to lunch and shopping and living.

But for Beckett and Castle, nothing's been the same since that moment, and they only just now realize it.

Beckett's eyes are boring into his, and Castle squirms, but doesn't look away. Maybe they need this. Maybe not talking about it is just as bad as talking about it.

"Why did you say it?" she asks.

He doesn't pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about. Doesn't think there'd be a point. He didn't think she'd heard him, and he was fine with that. The timing was lousy, but if he was going to lose her, he had to at least say it out loud. Once.

"I needed you to stay with me," he says. "I didn't know what else to say."

She gives him points for not looking away. But that's not really an answer. Or at least, not the answer she's looking for. And really, if she wants the answer she's looking for, she needs to ask the right question. They don't call her Detective for nothing.

"Did you mean it?"

His eyes skitter away, but then snap back. It's like her eyes are magnets, and he can't look away even if he wants to. And right now, he doesn't want to. This is big. Huge. If he messes it up, he thinks they may never recover.

"Yes," he whispers. "I meant it."

This time, it's her eyes that dart away, here and there, looking at the people passing, the rain coming down, anywhere but at him.

"I don't—I can't—" she stammers, looking away again, because she knows—knows—that he does, and she does, too, but she's not ready, and he's not ready. But he cuts her off, trying to rescue her like he's been doing since the moment they met.

"It's okay," he says, putting a hand out, not touching, but not not touching. "I shouldn't have—"

Her head snaps up, and she scowls. Actually scowls at him.

"Do you regret saying it?"

He winces. That's not what he meant, and the irony of a writer at a loss for words suddenly makes him laugh. Which draws out another scowl.

"The timing was…bad," he says carefully, taking a tentative step forward. "But I couldn't seem to stop myself. I wasn't ready to lose you, but…"

"Yeah," she says, gusting out a breath as she runs her hands through her now-sodden hair. "And I suppose I could have picked a better time to bring this up than the middle of a rainstorm."

"Yeah," he says, chuckling. "So, our timing is lousy. At least we have that in common."

She looks up at him, eyeing him suspiciously, as a slow grin works its way across her face, the answering one spreading across his. Grins turn to chuckles, and chuckles turn to full-blown laughter, and suddenly all the people who'd been ignoring them on the sidewalk start giving them a wide berth.

Which only makes them laugh harder. And damn, if that doesn't feel good.

~o~

Later, when they get back to the station house, Ryan and Esposito stare at them like they're a couple of aliens. They're soaked to the bone, shoes squishing on the linoleum, dripping on everything, and laughing hysterically.

They haven't settled anything, and Castle thinks maybe they never will, but the awkwardness is gone. And maybe, just maybe, they can move on from here. Because whatever's ahead can't be worse than what they've been through.

Even the rain.

~Finis


End file.
